Here he was again, heavyhearted outside the dark wood door of Damon’s apartment, ready to plead with his brother but knowing already that his words would be pointless. He could hear Damon moving quietly inside the apartment, the pages of a book flicking, his brother’s shallow breaths, and he knew that Damon could hear him, too, hesitating in the hall. He knocked. This time, when Damon opened the door, he didn’t immediately snarl at Stefan but instead gazed at him patiently, waiting for Stefan to speak. “I know you don’t want to see me,” Stefan said. “But I thought I should tell you what’s going on.” Damon stepped back and waved Stefan in. “Whatever you like, little brother,” he said airily. “I’m afraid I can’t ask you to stay long, though. I’ve got a date with a delicious little undergraduate.” His smile broadened as Stefan winced. Deciding not to respond to that, Stefan sank down into one of sleek chrome-and-pale-green chairs in Damon’s ultramodern living room.
